


ETA 8 minutes...

by Psychopersonified



Series: Kidnapped!Q [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: But also serious, Established Relationship, Humour, M/M, Movie: Skyfall (2012), Q is an accidental villain, kidnapped!Q, technical plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Don’t we 00Q shippers love a good kidnapped!Q story.Here’s my take on an attempted kidnapping prompted by -that- trailer (No Time to Die). But doesn't actually take place in that universe so to speak.UPDATED new chapters!-----“ETA 8 mins,” R supplies over the line.“We’re on our way, and police should be there before us,” Q can hear Bond’s voice sounding like he’s on the move; a few moments later, muffled sirens wail in the background. He wills himself to calm. Pulling in one stuttered breath at the time.Breathe, walk, repeat. Eight.more.minutes....----
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Kidnapped!Q [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782712
Comments: 31
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The writing is not polished or Brit-picked.
> 
> I've borrowed heavily from the movie SPECTRE but this isn't a fix it. The plot is entirely different though some themes remain. You might find me poking fun at the movie at different points as well.
> 
> This arc is written in a TV series format, each instalment is an 'episode'. So I apologise if its a little confusing at times with flashbacks to provide context. I thought it would break up the monotony of a slow building 'novel' style writing. Hopefully it works.
> 
> If long story arcs are not your thing, I have other light hearted series that can be read as standalone stories on my dashboard.

**Friday 10:00am**

The buildings’ security system pings his phone :: _Lobby Alert::_

Frowning, Q sets down the steaming mug of ginger tea. He was looking forward to the steam helping clear his congested sinuses. He’s developed a cold over the last couple of days, and medical sent him home yesterday for an early weekend.

He goes to the tablet mounted on the wall and pulls up the security feeds. There’s no one in the lobby which is a little strange. Movement in the next window catches his eye. It’s the hallway camera looking down the length of his floor, one of the lifts just opened and three men in paramedic uniform steps out. _Curious. Who on his floor is requiring assistance? Wait, shouldn’t the doorman be escorting them? Belatedly he realises the men have stopped at his door..._

They don’t even bother with a perfunctory knock. Q sees the police style door ram before he even hears the equipment colliding with his door. The door frame splinters inwards but holds. It is reinforced to buy him time but will not hold indefinitely. The loud crash sends a jolt of adrenaline into his sluggish system.

He springs into action, punching the panic button on the wall next to the tablet. It should send a signal to police and MI6.Q then grabs his MI6 laptop and turns it over. On the bottom is a red tab sticking out of a slot and he yanks at it - _hard_. It is the quick release mechanism for the hard drive - allowing the user to remove the hard drive quickly in an emergency. Pulling it also mechanically rips the chip from the board, damaging it hopefully beyond recovery. It also triggers a self destruct code in the laptop to wipe any remaining RAM. He designed the mechanism himself after the Istanbul fiasco and is now standard for all field issued laptops.

He pockets the remains of the hard drive just in case along with his phone and runs into the bedroom. One of the windows here open to the fire escape. He looks around the room and grabs the nearest coat he sees. 

He makes it to the bottom of the fire escape just as the front door bursts open. _Shit, shit, shit._ He runs down the back alley and emerges onto the main street a block away - activating the tracking and distress signal on his watch as he does.

His phone buzzes not even a minute later, he knows it is MI6. He swipes answer without hesitation.

“Q? Are you alright? We received two distress beacons registered to you a few minutes ago.” He recognises R’s voice immediately.

“Mayday, not a drill. Three assailants, they came in though the front door.” Q blurts out. The professional words belying the panic rising within.

“Police are on their way as we speak. Where are you?”

“I’m no longer in my residence, hostiles in pursuit. Taking southbound route towards rendezvous point. Do you have me on camera?” He’s panting from the run.

“Yes we see you.” That gives Q a little comfort. He needs to stay within view of the CCTVs.

“The assailants?” Q inquires still running down the street.

“Two on foot. Appears to be searching for you. Turning the corner.“

There is short crackle through the speakers and 007 joins the line. His comfortingly familiar voice comes over the phone,“Q? Stop running.”

“What??” Q’s chest is tight, his congested airways making it hard to breathe. The instruction is counterintuitive.

“Stop running.” 007 repeats, Q recognises Bond’s tone of controlled annoyance. “Slow down. Walk at brisk pace. Put on the coat, it’ll disguise you.”

Q complies. The coat is too big, it isn’t his. But that’s probably even better.

“Trust me, Q-..,” Bond assures, “..-that’s it. Good.” He must be watching the video feed. “At the next opportunity cross the street. Do not run. Do not look back. Keep your head down,” comes the next set of instructions from Bond.

“How much longer till the extraction team gets here? I don’t know if I can make it to the rendezvous point. I can hardly breathe,” his lungs are _burning_. The cold air not helping his already constricted airways. 

Q tries his best to follow Bond’s instructions. The temptation to look back and get a relative bearing on his assailants is overwhelming. But if he turns back, it will make it easier for them to spot him.

“ETA 8 mins,” R supplies over the line. 

“We’re on our way, and police should be there before us,” Q can hear Bond’s voice sounding like he’s on the move; a few moments later, muffled sirens wail in the background. He wills himself to calm. Pulling in one stuttered breath at the time.

_Breathe, walk, repeat. Eight.more.minutes..._

A few minutes later, R pipes up, “Q, they’ve turned into the same street. 100 meters. Try and blend in with the crowd best you can.” _Shit._ Q turns up the collar on Bond’s coat to hide more of his face.

“Q, do you have anything on you that can be used as a weapon?” 007 asks.

Q checks his trouser pockets. There’s just the hard drive he pulled.. and a Waitrose receipt. The watch he’s wearing has no weapons capabilities. Then he pats down Bond’s coat- something slim and hard is in the inside pocket. He removes it. Its an unexpectedly heavy silver pen.

“Umm… only things I have on me is the hard drive... my phone, my watch and your pen,” Q’s voice catches in desperation.

“My pen?” Bond prompts for clarification.

“Y…Yes. Silver pen in your navy wool coat. Off the back of the bedroom door.” _Fuck._ In the back of his mind, he’s mortified that he’s revealed something so personal over the comms. Their relationship isn’t a secret; its probably the worst kept secret in MI6 - but its not official either. 

R’s voice cuts in, “-50 meters… shit, looks like they are heading straight for you.”

“Q...listen carefully. That pen is from Q-Branch. Recognise it?” Now that Bond has mentioned it, Q realises it does look familiar. The lack of air is not helping with his cognitive abilities.

“Which one is it? Ss-sorry that was months ago. I can’t recall at the moment.” He really can’t, his head is starting to hurt.

“Its alright... It’s the taser version.“ Bond’s voice is infuriatingly calm.

“30 meters,” R updates.

“Q…shift the pen to your dominant hand. Prime the pen, remember how you showed me? In a few moments, when you feel a hand on you, turn around and twist away perpendicular to where he’s coming from, jab the pen anywhere you can reach, the face or neck if you can-.”

“20 meters.” R’s tone is urgent now.

“...Then run as fast as you can in the direction you were going. We’re just coming up to the bottom of the street. Can you do that?“

 _No!_ \- “Yes… turn, jab and run”. Q swaps the phone and pen in his hands.

“10 meters.”

“Get ready.” Bond’s voice is steel.

“NOW!” R’s warning shocks him into action.

Q ducks and twists around, the attacker barely has a grip on the collar of the coat. The action catches the attacker off-guard. Q then swings his arm around and jabs the pen under the man’s jaw, the tip lodging into the soft flesh there. A little more pressure and the pen discharges, sending the attacker spasming backwards and dropping him instantly.

The motion throws Q off balance momentarily and he looses his grip; phone clattering to the ground. But he recovers an instant later. Q turns back and makes a run for it, pelting down the busy street as fast has he can.

He can hear the screech of tyres and sirens up ahead. He sees a familiar dark green Range Rover and black Jaguar sedan skid to a stop, blocking the end of the street.

 _So close._ He looks back over his shoulder to see the second attacker just meters behind and gives his legs a last push.

Ahead, he sees the doors of the vehicles fling open, agents swarming out. He doesn’t have time to slow down so he uses his momentum to launch himself over the bonnet of the Jag - sliding on his hip across it to land in a crouch on the other side, sandwiched between the Jag and Range Rover.

Behind him, he hears the sounds of punches and kicks being thrown. A choked groan of pain and a crunch of bones. Slightly further away, there’s the sound of agents calling out to a third assailant to stand down.

He thinks to pear over the bonnet, but ducks again when he hears, “Get down!” followed by the rapid pop of gunshots. Then all hell breaks loose. People screaming and scattering causing absolute confusion.

Over the gunfire, he hears, “Sir! Q! Get in!” An agent is standing over him and herding him towards the rear door of the Jag.

He crouch-crawls his way to the back of the sedan keeping low. The agent shuts the heavy bulletproof door after him. A few seconds later another agent enters from the opposite door, throwing himself into the passenger seat next to Q and shutting the door. The Jag peels away immediately.

Q exhales shakily after a minute. Finally taking stock of his surroundings. He can see Tanner’s familiar profile in the front driver seat, eyes on the road, weaving through traffic.

“Alright?” the agent sitting next to him asks. Q turns his head, it’s Bond. Relief washes over him and it’s all he can do not to launch himself into Bond’s lap. He nods in acknowledgement.

Bond reaches across to squeeze his knee. The briefest of touches. He notices the fresh abrasions on the back of Bond’s knuckles.

“Third assailant managed to escape. Police are in pursuit. The other two are in custody,” R’s voice comes over the speaker.

“Received. Principle secured, we’re in transit.” Tanner replies.

“R, do we know who they are yet? Links to anyone?” Bond asks.

“Nothing so far. Facial recognition is still running. CCTV shows an ambulance arriving outside Q’s building. The assailants posed as paramedics to gain entry. Once inside, they shot the plain-clothes police officer stationed there. They had a collapsible gurney with them too. We’re assuming that was how they intended to move Q once they’ve incapacitated him. It would not arouse suspicion.” 

Bond takes a deep breath, the only break in his cool and collected armour. Hearing the details was difficult. _Too close. Too damned close._

The Jag pulls up at MI6, Tanner using the underground entrance. He parks the car in Mallory’s spot, close to the tunnel that houses the lifts, only then does Q realise the Jag is M’s government car.

Tanner and Bond get out of the car. Bond crossing behind the car to open Q’s door. Q feels odd - his limbs sluggish, uncompliant and cold. Belatedly he thinks he’s in shock. It must have shown, because Bond reaches in to gently clamp his fingers around Q’s bicep and slowly help him out.

They make it into the lift with Q increasingly leaning on Bond to keep himself standing. _Why does his lungs still feel like they cant get enough air?_

The lift doors open and Q all but tumbles out into the lift lobby. His vision tunnels and the colours wash out. That’s the moment he crashes.

“Q!” Bond lowers him onto the marble floor. Taking care to cushion his head.

Tanner is already on his phone, barking at medical to send a team, “Level 5 lobby stat!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The event told roughly from Bond's POV especially the first half. Plus the aftermath. Also, let's all get on Bond's case shall we? 
> 
> This is me trying to get into Bond's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd or Brit-picked.

**Level 5 Lobbby, SIS (MI6) HQ**

Kneeling beside Q in the Level 5 lobby of MI6 HQ, Bond vacillates between being livid at himself and overwrought with worry for Q. The young man is crumpled unconscious on the marble floor. He had seen it coming. Q was already too pale in the car, lips almost colourless. He had to call Q’s name twice before he responded to exit the vehicle.

He should have dealt with it in the parking garage, instead of turning Q into a spectacle here in the lobby. He recognised the symptoms of hyperventilation when he saw it. Bond was hoping to get Q to medical before helping him recover.

He checks Q’s pulse, rapid but weak. He’s breath is still shallow. If medical doesn’t get there in the next minute, he’s going to pick Q up and carry him there. A crowd is forming around them. Level 5 lobby is the main exchange lobby inside HQ - where the ‘public’ meets the ‘secret’. The floors above level 5 house the Executive and Operational branches. Level 5 and below that are the public facing areas - accounts, administrative, HR, logistics, cafeteria, etc. To get to the upper levels, they have to change to the restricted lift banks further to the rear of the building.

And now, it’s right in the middle of the workday morning. Curious staff from both upstairs and downstairs are standing around staring. Bond wants badly to tell them to - _piss off-_ , but it would just make rumours spread faster.

Dr. Chen arrives just then with two of her aides, a crash cart and a gurney. Together they put Q onto the gurney, checking his vitals on the way to Medical.

“BP87/60. Pulse 110. Oxygen saturation 92%. Glucose levels 61mg/dL,“ One of the medical aides report.

“He’s borderline hypoxic and in hypoglycaemic shock. Prepare glucagon shot, and glucose IV drip.” Dr Chen orders as they fit Q with an oxygen mask.

Knowing Q, he likely hadn’t taken breakfast yet that morning either. He was still asleep when Bond left for HQ. Add that to the fact that Q barely had dinner the night before; appetite suppressed by the cold he was having - he was running very low on reserves.

—

The treatment room doors close in his face. One of the senior nurses had brandished a folded stethoscope in his face like a weapon and told him to _stay_. That was Maria, a straight talking matronly nurse of Pilipino descent, the only nurse in medical that isn’t afraid of his 00-status despite being nearly a foot shorter than him. So he’s now left pacing the corridor outside.

—

**_Earlier that day_ **

When his phone buzzed that morning with a security alert ::Lobby Alert:: , 007 was in a meeting in the operations centre with M, Tanner and 004 running through plans for the next mission in Libya. A local warlord was buying guns presumably to fight ISIS insurgents but intel has it that he’s gone from fighting them to suppling them - profits were better.

007 had excused himself to a corner to check the app that would give him access to the security cameras in Q’s building. The sight of the three men at the door with the battering ram had him on his feet in an instant - heart in his throat. The distress signal came through seconds later.

He was out of the conference room door in seconds and into the main operations area where the wall of monitors stood. R was there and had apparently received the same alert - the warning flashing red and urgent across one of the monitors.

“007, Sir!” R called out to him from across the room, “Q’s distress signal was just activated.” R looked to Bond like he might have an explanation.

M and the others in the conference room had followed him out when they noticed him leave abruptly.

“I just received the same alert. Security cameras show three men attempting to gain access.” Bond held up his phone to indicate how he knew.

Panic flickered across R’s face for a moment; but her training kicked in and she started calling out orders to the minions around her, “Executive Protocol Q! Attempted forced entry at Quartermaster’s residence in progress. I want CCTV feeds around his residence. Get the police on the line, how fast can they get a patrol unit there-...”

What happened next was a flurry of activity. Bond’s only deference to protocol was to turn to M and nod his leave before sprinting out. Tanner caught up with him at the lifts, a tablet in hand. He swiped his Chief of Staff card and tapped a short code that would give him (or more accurately M) preferential lift access in emergencies.

“M says to take his car. R can patch through the feeds and update us on the way.” Bond would normally object to having someone tag along with him, but in this instance a government vehicle with its blues-and-twos flashing would get them through traffic quicker.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they were joined by another team of agents. Tanner had the keys to M’s Jaguar and took position as driver, he signalled to one of the other agents jump into the front passenger seat - leaving 007 to stew in the back. The remaining agents followed in a separate vehicle.

-

“Tanner... a little more speed would be appreciated.”

“007, why don’t you pay attention to the tablet and help R out?” Tanner suggested politely.

-

007 flung the door open before the car even made a full stop. He engaged the second assailant just as Q made it across the Jag’s bonnet to the other side.Bond would later dispute the police report that indicated excessive force was used to subdue the assailant. A broken nose, partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee was hardly excessive in his line of work.

—---

**_Present_ **

Dr Chen emerges from the treatment room 15 minutes later.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Chen holds up her hands to placate Bond before he can do his double-0 looming. “Oxygen levels are back to normal and blood glucose readings are back up. He just needs rest and some food in him.”

Q comes fully around in half an hour. The glucose and oxygen supplement doing wonders. He’s sitting up on the recovery bed having tea and biscuits that Bond managed to retrieve from Q’s stash in Q-Branch.

Mallory and Eve are present as well, intercepting Q before Bond has had a chance to see him privately. Pleasantries done, M leaves the room and gestures for 007 to follow him out, leaving Eve to continue her conversation with Q.

—

**_Outside Recovery Room A_ **

“007, It’s been a trying day. How are you?” M opens.

Bond makes a non-committal sound, “Sir. I know you didn’t want to see me to discuss my mental health.”

M sighs. _Why must everything be so difficult with this one._

“Fine. I want to discuss Q’s protection detail for the next few weeks until we get this threat sorted. You are off the Tripoli mission next week, 004 will be taking lead,” M offers.

Bond would normally protest, but this time he makes no move. Internally he is relieved. This saves him from having to come up with an excuse for why he won’t be going.

“We’re going to have to move Q to a secure location. MI5 has safe houses and resources we can tap into— “ Mallory sees the snarl forming on 007’s lips and quickly adds, ”—but I have a feeling you are going to want to have a say in it.”

Bond backs down and considers a moment. “I still have my place. The floorplan is easy to secure. A few upgrades and it should be adequate.”

“And the rest of the detail?”

“I’ll… need two more officers. Better yet, field agents in line for the 00-program. Consider this their asset protection training.”

M nods in approval. But something is left unsaid. M decides that it is time to get it out of the agent.

“How long has it been going on?” Bond knows M is not talking about the protection detail anymore.

“Just over a year.” He says matter of fact looking at a point past M’s shoulder. Bond isn’t volunteering more information than that. M doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

Both men are clearly uncomfortable with the personal segue of the conversation. A pause and they both look away and clear their throats at the same time.

M ends the discussion on something they are more accustomed to, “Well, I trust you have this area under control. Tomorrow morning, we’ll reconvene to discuss any information R and Forensics can recover.”

Bond nods. “Very well, sir.” The fact the M hasn’t removed him from the case is consent enough.

——

**_Inside Recovery Room A_ **

“How are you?” Eve rubs his blanket covered shin.

“Aside from it being one of the worst days of my life? Alright all things considered.“

Eve reaches over to give him a tight hug, more for her own sake than Q’s, “You had everyone so worried!… Thank goodness for the pen.”

“Yes well… Bond’s penchant for pilfering Q-branch equipment finally came in handy.”

Eve ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek, “You did really well today. I’m _so_ proud of you.”

Q shrugs, what can he say? He doesn’t feel particularly proud. More numb if anything now that’s it’s over. Eve seems to sense this and goes for humour instead, ”Did Tanner tell you? He put 007 in the backseat of the Jag on the way to you.”

“I did wonder about that…” He could imagine Bond’s ire at having to relinquish control and wait patiently. Eve and Q share a conspiratorial smile.

“The rumour mill is spinning in overdrive; thought you might to know. It was quite the spectacle this morning in the lobby.”

Q pinches the bridge of his nose; mortified. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. I’ve single handedly destroyed what little street cred Q-Branch had left.”

“Oh Q... that’s not what people are talking about—,” at his blank look, she unlocks the phone in her hand and pulls up the internal messaging app. She scrolls to a video and selects it before showing it to him.

It was of Q crumpled dramatically on his side just in front of the lift banks. 007 is crouched over him, one of his hands cradling Q’s head. Tanner is standing nearby, phone to his ear. The video captures 007’s other hand coming up to touch the pulse point at Q’s neck. A few moments later the agent looks up, taking in the crowd, his eyes a blazing blue, expression tinged with fear. Dr. Chen arrives soon after, cutting off the view from that angle.

 _Oh… OH…-_ In his mind, Q had expected the incident to be far more comical. A tech boffin kissing the floor from panic induced hypoxia has the potential to be the stuff of comic legend; if schadenfreude was your cup of tea. But the video was far from amusing. Poignant would be a more accurate description. Bond will be a handful to deal with later.

At the sobering thought, Q changes the subject, “Did I make the tele?”

Eve grins and nods,”All morning… breaking news and all. It’s being spun as a possible terror attack, as shots were fired and we need to maintain your cover. Mallory negotiated a _quid pro quo_ with MI5. They are getting credit for the quick response in apprehending the suspects in exchange for publicly copping to counter-terrorism failure.”

“There were quite a lot of shots exchanged. Was anyone hurt?” Q recalled the street was rather busy. 

“Aside from the assailants, none seriously. Some civilian injuries, but all stable.” That assuages his guilt somewhat.

“Has anyone been to the flat?”

“Forensics is taking a look now.”

“Derek, the officer in the lobby? Is he—“

“He’s just out of surgery. Critical but stable.” This is why Q loves Eve, she knows _everything_.

“Don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to the cats?” Q is a little sheepish to be asking about his pets when human lives were threatened this morning.

“The cats are fine. Emily from forensics found them huddled in the laundry room. She’ll bring them back here at the end of her shift,” Eve reassures him, “But at the moment, your lion is loose and prowling the halls.”

 _Ah right_ , “Eve… does _everyone_ know?”

Eve smiles at him, “Q... everyone’s known for _months._ Including Mallory.”

Just then the door opens and Bond reenters. Eve takes her leave. She pats Bond on his bicep on the way out and he acknowledges with a nod. When she’s cleared the doorway, he closes the door and locks it behind her. Finally. Some privacy.

Bond is silent intent when he comes to sit on the recovery bed facing Q. He removes the mug of tea from Q’s hands and sets it safely aside - gently demanding.

He leans in to wrap his arms tightly around Q, crushing Q against his chest. He runs his calloused hands over Q’s back, neck and into his hair - then buries his nose in that unruly mop of hair, breathing in deeply. When he’s a little calmer, a little more composed - he relaxes his hold to nuzzle Q around the temple before going in for a kiss, hands still stroking the sides of Q’s face and neck.

Q’s glasses are askew from all the petting. “Alright… I’m alright…. ,“ He soothes the agent, and has to take hold of Bond’s hands to quiet him. He knows Bond in this unsettled mood - a predator caught off guard, challenged… insecure. Bond would very well take things too far to reassure himself if Q lets him. And this isn’t an appropriate time or place.

“Are you still going to Tripoli on Monday?” Q tries to distract the clingy agent.

“No. M stood me down… I’ve been reassigned as your PPO,” Bond rumbles softly into his hair.

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to play bodyguard?” Q needles him. 

“Hmm… you deserve the best,” he mumbles into the corner of Q’s mouth.

Q snorts at the backhanded compliment Bond’s paid himself.

Bond whispers, “I’ve been told I’m rather good at what I do.”

 _Bravado_. _Let him have it-_ Q thinks, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re precious,” Bond had not intended that to be out loud, and is a little embarrassed even before Q calls him out on it.

“Gah! You’re incredibly mushy today,” Q pushes him away lightly, mock cringing.

Bond leans back, but his hands have escaped and have wandered around Q’s waist, thumbs caressing the ticklish flesh, “Considering the events of today, I think I’m entitled.” Bond leans back in for a kiss.

Pillow talk. They’re engaging in pillow talk in the middle of the day in Medical. - _Surreal_ \- Q thinks.

The door handle rattles. Bond squeezes his eyes shut and exhales in exasperation - _Seriously, can everyone just piss off!_

Undeterred by the universal sign for a request to privacy, the person the other side raps on the door.

Bond goes to unlock it. Q picks up his tea to hide his mirth.

The door opens to reveal Nurse Maria sporting a _-very-_ disapproving scowl. She’s back to check in on Q’s condition. She keeps her eyes on Bond as she enters, keeping him at bay with her stare alone. Bond moves away to a decent distance and stands at parade rest, eyes straight ahead; the very picture of obedience.

She turns to Q and fusses over his vitals and starts removing the IV drip.

“Rest. No more dangerous stunts. Eat more... Too skinny. _Tsk_!” she makes a sound of disapproval.

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his _best_ ,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

“Hmph…” Maria huffs unimpressed, as she fluffs Q’s pillow.

Mercilessly she adds, “Maybe the boyfriend is too busy. Always travelling. You should tell him to slow down. Spend more time at home.”

All this she directs at Q but there is no mistaking who the words are actually for.

“I’ll umm… I’ll make sure to let him know.” Q tries to defuse the situation. If it comes down to an actual contest of words between those two, Q’s not sure Bond would win.

——

**Quartermaster’s Residence**

Late that afternoon, once forensics is done collecting evidence, Bond is back home - well technically Q’s place. He speaks to Emily, Head Forensics Tech onsite for an update.

“Place is untouched, only damage appears to be the door. Nothing appears to be out of place, but you’d be able to tell better than us. It doesn’t look like the assailants bothered to search for anything. Which confirms the suspicion that they were not after anything, but Q himself.”She informs him - which to Bond is the worst case scenario. Q has something they want, and if the failed attempt today does not dissuade them, then they will try again.

“We’ll have some technicians back onsite to secure the door at least temporarily and do a more thorough sweep… Right then, cats are in their carriers in the laundry room. Do you still want us to take them to HQ?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank you Emily.” Emily pats him on the shoulder much like Eve did before leaving.

Bond has two other agents with him:

Agent Monica Chalmers, former Squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, calm, tough as nails with surprisingly good hand to hand combat skills for a pilot.

Agent Peter Coyle former Major in the Royal Marines, good all rounder but with a dormant sense of rebelliousness that Bond see lying just beneath the highly disciplined exterior.

Both are experienced field agents and nine months into the Double-0 program and top of their batch. He’d consulted 009 earlier for his recommendation and Bond remembered them from the selection weekend ten months ago when he assisted 009 in the testing process.*

Bond gets them to help pack a few bags for Q as well as collect any projects and papers he was working on - directing them where things are and pointing out the items he wants packed.

When they’re done and about to leave, Bond emerges form the laundry room with his own bag and a cat carrier, “I hope the both of you like cats.”

Chalmers is quick to indicate affirmative. Coyle hesitates a split second too long; 007 smells blood and smiles sharkily. “Well you do now,” and promptly hands over the carrier case to him.

-—-

**Notting Hill, Chelsea**

Then they swing by MI6 to pick up Q before heading to Bond’s place in Chelsea.

They have a polite dinner, all four of them standing around the kitchen bar, because Bond’s bachelor pad lacks any real furniture. Bond refuses to be embarrassed. The place smells musty from disuse, and the overhead lighting is harsh and unflattering. It’s in a very nice part of town, but the place is frankly depressing. Q’s only been here a handful of times. Barely furnished and incomplete, it represents Bond’s past - he still comes by time to time especially after missions where he’s had to do some morally questionable things. He comes here to shed the proverbial filth so to speak; before returning to his present, his life with Q. Psychological compartmentalisation in physical form.

Q had let the cats out to explore. Jellicles the younger tuxedo cat is curious, zooming about the place and chattering to himself. Q thinks his boldness is due to the place not smelling entirely alien. Bond had to pull the cat off the hanging kitchen lights at one point.

But Spot (after Data’s cat) the older orange moggie is having none of it. The big former street cat is attempting to climb Q’s jeans, wanting to be held and cuddled. Q finally gives up and picks up the cat and hitches it to his side like child - the large moggie is as heavy as one too. With the cat mollified, Q can finish his dinner.

After dinner, Q transfers the cat to Bond’s arms before excusing himself to shower and get ready for the night. Bond is in his usual white shirt open at the collar, gun holster still around his shoulders. The orange cat fidgets in his arms, head-butting him under the jaw. Jellicles who was lounging on the kitchen bar now feels left out and is reared up on his hind legs, front paws on Bond’s other shoulder, meowing incessantly. “Yess, alright…,” he sets down his fork in mild annoyance to pet the cat along his long sinuous spine and get him to sit back down.

Agents Chalmers and Coyle exchange a look. Here is the idolised spy, the revered Double-0 agent, the man himself in his private setting and nothing lives up to expectation. The cognitive dissonance throws them.

Bond ever the observant one catches their open stares, understanding immediately. His voice is low, tired even, heavy with the the years of service and untold horrors he’d witnessed and done, “They lie in the brochures. I hope neither of you are doing it for the lifestyle.” And that concludes Bond’s pearl of wisdom for the day.

When they’re done clearing up, Bond gives them their instructions.

“Familiarise yourselves with the floorplan, entry and exits. Let me know what improvements we need and an escape plan for contingencies.”

“In the evenings when I’m around, you won’t need to stay. Check in with the police guards outside and have them keep watch of the building. But I won’t be here all the time. At some point I -will- leave to go after whoever is behind this.” 

“The both you will need to take turns sleeping on the couch. Or make alternative arrangements for him if the threat becomes untenable. We’ll discuss more tomorrow.“

With that, they’re dismissed.

——

That night, when the lights are out, and they’re both scrubbed clean of the days’ stress- Bond crawls into bed behind Q. Q can sense it in the cautiousness and light tremors in Bond’s movements, like he’s trying to keep it together. 

Once his guard drops, James is near inconsolable. Wrapped possessively around Q, hands everywhere, legs tangled - his face is buried in the back of Q’s neck. The man is silent, except for the harsh and erratic breathing - and not the good kind either. The back collar of Q’s pyjamas is wet with tears.

Q does his best to soothe, petting and rubbing the muscled arms wrapped around him. He brings the man’s hands up to his face and kisses the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “James, I’m alright…. I’m right here…” he whispers over and over.

He doesn’t try to stop the emotional breakdown, better to let him have it. Q feels a little guilty, he’s feeling somewhat detached from the days’ traumatic events. Maybe it’s because he got to panic while it was happening and it is now out of his system.He’s cool and calm now while James suffers the emotional fallout.

Q recalls the video that Eve presented to him earlier in the afternoon. The camera capturing with stunning clarity the raw emotion behind the agent’s blue eyes. If the agent knew about the video, he’d make the person who took it will disappear. Which reminds Q to make a mental note to nuke the video from the messaging platform in the morning.

James is past the tears now and demanding more. The soothing caresses turning to something more serious, more consuming. Q is more than happy to give. They comfort each other until they’re both exhausted enough to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled to name Q's cats.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition of technical plot. I've tried to interject it with humour and also to use this opportunity for character development. 
> 
> Some parts borrowed heavily from Spectre (movie) but does not take place in that universe.

**Saturday 10:00**

**SIS (MI6) Ops Centre Level 9 - Operations Room C.**

R is providing sitrep. Images flash across the wall of screens to the front of the room.

“…—The ambulance was stolen from the Forest Hill Station south of London. Three assailants. Two in custody--” Their mugshots appear on screen:

Assailant 1 sports a bandaid under his chin. “…— is under medical observation for possible head trauma from hitting the cobblestone street—…”

Assailant 2 is much worse off, broken nose, a large hematoma under the right eye, and ugly bruising across the throat. “…— is also under medical observation for a partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee.”

“Hospital will not release them for questioning until Sunday or Monday at the latest. Human rights and all. Third assailant was cornered by our agents, but opened fire into the crowd. Luckily there were no serious injuries. Agents stood down to avoid risk to civilian population and the assailant escaped on a stolen motorcycle.”

“Facial recognition places them as local members of a south London crime syndicate. Armed robbery, money laundering and the likes - serious crimes but nothing on the scale that would suggest going after a head of department in SIS.”

“Hired muscle. Nothing more. So that if the attempt fails or they get caught, it can’t be traced to whoever ordered it,” M concludes.

“Yes, sir. But they would have to know where to drop the asset off if it were successful though.” Agent Chalmers chimes in.

“Note the unusual timing; in the middle of a workday morning meant that they had to know that Q would be home at the time. That he was relatively unguarded—“ _that Bond wasn’t home,_ was left unsaid. “—which means they were watching. Or told when to initiate the attempt.” Tanner added.

Q is only half paying attention to the discussion. Mark from IT-Branch came in earlier to hand him three new boxes of electronics - _bless him_. A new phone, laptop and hotspot router (because Bond’s place has no telephone or internet); unboxing them was like taking a hit for an addict in withdrawal. Q is preoccupied with setting them up and re-downloading data from the secure cloud services. He feels nearly like himself again. He had spent most of yesterday without them and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“The place was untouched. The target was Q. What worries me is motive. Why would anyone take such a risk to provoke MI6 by abducting the Quartermaster knowing we would have the motivation and resources to go after them. Not unless the payoff is something that would massively change the way they forward their agenda. It has to be something they need him for. Something they can’t replicate, not even if they had the plans.” 007 concludes.

M who was rocking lightly in his chair whilst listening stops, leans forward and sighs. He looks over at Q, “What have you been working on?”

Mallory couldn’t keep track of all of it. Yes Q-Branch spent millions in R&D but they made the government (and by extension secured SIS funding) at least ten times what they spent. Declassified plans, schematics and programming codes sold at auction to private defence, Infosec and engineering companies for tens of millions.

The Q-Branch minions might be the butt of jokes at times in SIS, but their work not only kept operatives alive but helped keep the lights on in MI6. It is no wonder that MI5 wanted a slice of that pie. Sometimes M wondered why Q hasn’t left to go work in private. He’d asked him that once, and all he got in reply was something to the effect of ‘reigning in egomaniacal tendencies with public oversight and knowing which side you’re on’.

“Take your pick—” Q huffs in mild frustration, then realises who he was speaking to and adds,”—Sir.”

Q’s feeling tetchy this morning. Aside from tech withdrawal, his cold had gotten worse so his nose is completely stuffed. The general fatigue that accompanies a cold is exacerbated by his aching leg muscles from all that running the day before. Then he’d discovered he’d ripped a nail right off the finger bed in his haste to remove the hard drive so it stings when he types. He’s feeling a full on sulk coming. Bond already bore the brunt of his crabbiness this morning attempting to get him ready to come in to HQ.

“What about the project you’ve been working on with Mark? With the Shadow Network?” R said trying to be helpful.

“What about it? And please, I prefer Gemini Network - sounds less villainy.”

“I heard Mark say it could be a game changer, that it will give us the upper hand when it comes to controlling information.”

“Well in theory….” Q is being a little evasive.

Mallory looks over at Eve and tips his chin up at her. Eve knows at once to go and fetch Mark. They’ve learned over the years that when Q says something is ‘in theory’, it means he’s already gone ahead and built a proof a concept it or at the very least it tested the theory.

Mark enters the operations room like he’s been summoned to the headmasters office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

“Tell us about the Gemini Network.” M dives right in without preamble.

“You mean the Shadow Network?” Mark looks for clarification.

“Why does everyone insist on calling it that?…” Q is slightly miffed.

Mark begins, “Well, the concept started years ago when we first used it to trap Silva in his earlier days. Quantum was trying to undermine your predecessor through Q-Branch, cascade of equipment failures leading to the death of a field agent. Basically we built a replica of Q-Branch systems and let Silva run his virus in it to learn what he was doing.”

“Since then we’ve evolved and developed the concept into a full shadow network that now protects MI6 systems. We created an AI shepherded by our cybersecurity team that patrols our systems; learning the normal functions - what’s secure, what’s not.” Mark pauses to check if everyone is still following.

“The idea is that when an anomaly in the system is detected, the AI isolates the suspicious node and shunts it into its shadow network. The shadow network presents itself as a legitimate fully functioning system and lets whatever suspicious activity continue unchallenged. But all the while it is watching and learning. It then flags the human team who can then decide if it is harmless or a legitimate threat. We can then use what it learns to patch the actual system. Think of it like an evolving immune system for cybersecurity. The more it learns the more robust it gets.”

Q then reasons, “The AI represents thousands of hours of machine training and learning, valuable in it of itself. But not impossible to recreate - though having MI6 as a training ground does make it harder for anyone to catchup to it.”

Bond notices Mark’s excited body language. The man is almost bouncing on his toes, “But… I’m guessing there is more to this…?”

Marks looks to Q and they have a non-verbal exchange. Those two are thick as thieves when it comes to programming, though Mark still refuses to transfer to Q-Branch for the sake of his sanity. Bond has met Mark numerous times, he likes the guy. Mark looks up to Q like an adoring little brother wanting someday to be just as good. Which means he’s an enabler who goes along with Q’s ideas without any sense of self preservation.

“Recently, Mark and I found a new application for it. We managed to package the AI into a worm that can be used to infiltrate a target network. It will still require us to inject it behind a firewall, either through hacking or physically. But once inside, it starts watching and learning - filtering traffic internally between nodes; as well as incoming and outgoing traffic outside of the network. It will sit dormant until activated…”

Eve’s eyes are wide, “Oh boys, what have you created?”

“…When activated, it will deploy the Shadow Network, into which we can shunt specific network traffic. A) The captured node still thinks its in the master system and functions normally. B) The AI then replaces the captured node with a mimic so to the master system, nothing is amiss.”

“The beauty of this is that it does not require us to crack security. When authentication is required, the AI simply returns the node back in to authenticate before shunting it back out. Do you see? We can compel any system to unlock its door by hiding behind the captured node.“ Mark points out looking like he’s about to explode with excitement.

Even Tanner is stunned now. R, who has heard it all before and told them _repeatedly_ how dangerous of an idea this was - has her hands pressed together as if in prayer covering her mouth

“The node itself is tricked into thinking it is still interacting with the master system - which makes it voluntarily reveal information which we can collect or use as we see fit. Alternately we can seed it with misinformation to bring back to the master system.”

“Its the ultimate spy - Agent 1001.” Mark declares gleefully. His attempt at humour falls flat. If he‘d added Ta-Da! at the end of it, Bond was going to cuff him behind the head.

Mark pulls himself together and continues, “In practical terms it means we can change literally any information - while both sides remain unaware because there are now two truths depending on which network you are interacting with. ”

“But that’s just the start—.” Q takes over.

“There’s _more_?“ Mallory drawls out, feeling a migraine coming.

Q is apologetic, “What’s the most secure form of record keeping at the moment? …Blockchain. A set of records linked cryptographically together, with a distributed ledger that technically guarantees security. You can’t change any data in a block retroactively without changing all the subsequent blocks…. not unless you have consensus of at least 51% of all the nodes in the ledger.“

“Q… As riveting as this exposition is, get to the point.” Bond’s tone is a warning, his consonants sharper. Even he’s catching on to where this is leading and dreading it.

“Yes alright..” Q doesn’t get why everyone seems more upset than impressed.

”The point is, theoretically if we manage to get the worm into a peer-to-peer network and let spread throughout, we can apply the Shadow Network concept to launch a mass ‘eclipse attack’ on the distributed ledger. The nodes in the network must stay in constant contact to compare data for consensus. If the AI shunts off enough of the nodes into its Shadow Network and manage to trick 51% of the nodes into accepting our version of the chain before returning it, we change the ledger. Change the ledger and—“

“—You’ve _hacked blockchain_.“ Eve finishes for him, disbelieving.

“So are we talking about bitcoin?” Agent Coyle hazards a guess.

“Oh Agent Coyle… cryptocurrency is just the beginning. Just imagine any database that depends on blockchain for its immutability. Voting records? Supply chains? Financial records? Anti-counterfeit measures? The Shadow Network lets you - Change. Your. Digital. Reality.” Q finishes with a flourish; in purely intellectual terms, the concept is truly quite clever.

Tanner looks to Mallory alarmed,“Sir… 35 central banks are now experimenting with issuing digital state currencies on blockchain. At least 10 will be going ahead in this year and another 15 in the next 2 years.“

 ** _Silence_** _._ You could hear a pin drop.

Bond who has been standing off to the side of the monitors in his characteristic agent pose, legs apart one hand in his pocket; exhales loudly and points out ominously, “So whoever controls the AI, controls the Shadow Network and everything it can do - **the Shadow Master.** “

 _All_ heads in the room turn to Q….

“Yes, that would be one way of putting it. Personally, I prefer the term **Shadow Architect** ,” Q chortles at the absurdity of the comic villain names.

But no one one else is laughing. And they’re all looking at him expectantly. Except Mark, he laughs at all of Q’s jokes. 

_-Christ-_. Bond is torn between wanting to strangle the oblivious idiot himself and wanting to put the genius in a glass cage for his own safety.

A moment later, Q has a dawning realisation about what he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“It..Its just theoretical!” Denial.

“Technically this belongs to SIS…” Bargaining.

“We just thought it would be a helpful tool for our operatives to turn the odds in their favour!” Anger.

“What in the world possessed me to think…” Depression

“Owwh shit.” Acceptance.

Q stops his pacing in front of the monitor wall and collapses into a chair nearby. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

When he’s done cycling through emotions, M raises and eyebrow,“Well, I’m glad we’ve _all_ come to the same conclusion,” M’s sarcasm flies over his head.

——

As a result of the meeting, Q & Mark are sent away to put their project into a secure vault in the servers - until M knows what to do with it. Q feels like they’ve just been sent to ‘time out’ - to think about what they’ve done.

Once he’s done that, he goes to Q-Branch to serve out his sentence.

Q-Branch is the only ‘secret’ arm in SIS that is located between the garage and basement bunkers. It’s more practical that way as larger projects (cars, boats, etc) would be a logistical pain to move if they were on the upper levels. Three whole floors make up Q’s lair that he shares with thirty or so minions.

It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew is present most of them are working in the floors below. None are in the office areas.

Bond is still in the meeting upstairs with M and the others. So Q makes himself tea and sticks his nose in the steam curling out of the mug to open his sinuses. He’s running through the theory he’s told the others in his head - trying to poke holes in it. But no, the simulation running on his computer is telling him how terrifyingly efficient the AI would be once activated.

The main doors to Q-Branch offices hiss open. Q doesn’t turn around, knowing who it is. Bond comes to sit a little noisily in a swivel chair next to him, facing the other way. He’s radiating ‘we need to talk’ vibes, but even then Bond usually just invades his space until Q speaks first.

“James, I’m sorry about being a tosser this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The eggs were fine.” Q makes a peace offering. And since no one is around, he reaches out to trace a finger around Bond’s tie pin.

Bond doesn’t move away which means he’s forgiven. Thats the thing with Bond, he’s not really a man of many words when he’s not actively trying to charm a mark. So when he does want to talk, best pay attention.

“Whats the damage?” Q asks. 

“Mark is going to need his own protection detail.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that….” Poor Mark is going to have to explain that to his Bumble dates.

“Well, it might teach him not to be such an enabler and grow a pair around you.”

“Hah! Tell it to his face.”

“I _did_. Now, stop making him do things that will get him in trouble. You don’t want that on your conscience.” Bond chastises. The poor guy is like Igor to Q’s Dr Frankenstein.

Suitably reproached, Q doesn’t have anything to say for himself. He continues playing with Bond’s tie.

“I’m leaving for Mexico on Wednesday.”

“What? Why?” Q’s eyes snap up to meet Bond’s.

“I’m leaving for Mexico on Wednesday.”

“What? What about Tripoli?” Q’s eyes snap up to meet Bond’s.

“Switching places with 004. Remember Felix Leitner? Something said to me in Belgium makes me fairly sure $PECTRE factors into this somehow.”

Q feels even more like shit now. They’d arranged for 004 to run the mission specifically because Marco Sciarra has never met him. Sciarra would recognise Bond immediately, the both having met in Geneva during $PECTRE’s ICO party and in their line of business, coincidences like running into each other again is highly suspect. The risks or exposure are much higher.

“Mallory is thinking of forming an internal oversight committee to run risk analysis on Q-Branch projects. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up with a cyberworld equivalent of a Manhattan project in his lap.

“He’s afraid I’ll turn into Ozymandias…,” then remembering that Bond probably didn’t get the reference, ”Antagonist, very smart, tries to take over the world.” He supplies by way of explanation. 

Bond laughs a little, “If you do turn villainous, does that make me your henchman?”

Q considers, “More arc nemesis I should think. Don’t pretend that M won’t send you to shot me if I do. And don’t pretend you won’t either.”

“Are you expecting me to refuse?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to come get me.”

\---- To Be Continued ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly going to continue this ....


End file.
